


They Say Your Life Flashes Before Your Eyes

by OhTigridia



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Flashbacks, Introspection, M/M, Relationship Study, There’s some soft stuff but this is just sad ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24815338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhTigridia/pseuds/OhTigridia
Summary: August watched him leave. His hair that fluttered behind him like broken wings. The gentle glimmer of light caught in emerald earrings.Such fleeting gorgeousness, that left August feeling suffocated again.August would either save him - or or he’d die trying.“I’d follow you into the jaws of hell.” He’d once said.
Relationships: August/July (A3!)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	They Say Your Life Flashes Before Your Eyes

“ _They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. I wonder if it’s true.”_ A more naive August questioned. He was younger, with an odd curiosity for everything the world had. A morbid question, as he lay on his back and watched the stars glimmer. Strange for him to have smiled so carelessly, as he turned to glance at the person beside him.

“I often think this place is bad, but at least it’s not boring. I wouldn’t want to have to rewatch a boring life. _”_

_“Wouldn’t you agree, July?”_

Would he? August doesn’t know. August never truly knew anything about July, he realises. Really, he shouldn’t think of such things right now, but it’s an oddly haunting thought that lingers in his head as he stares right back at the same stars from that night. There’s a beautiful full moon, and the figure of that same person looming over him.

He’s no longer so young - they both grew up, and August fell out of love with such a life. He knows that’s what caused everything to fall apart so quickly.

His breathing is heavy in his chest, and it becomes increasingly more agonising as each second drags on. July doesn’t flinch at the sight, his eyes burning into August with a certain intensity. His expression is practically unreadable, as he just keeps watching, his figure imposing, silhouetted against the moonlight.

August wonders how he feels. Truly, there’s a mountain of guilt upon August right now. Over the possibilities of December’s death at his own hands. Of leaving April alone. _Of his failed attempts to have saved any of the three of them._

August wonders if July feels bad about what he’s done, or if he just views it as _taking out the enemy._ August wouldn’t be too surprised either way.

He is certain of his own guilt however, and he's inescapably afraid of what he’ll see if he was unfortunate enough that his past curiosities were true.

Such cruel torture, that August should have to witness those amounted mistakes once more. Mistakes in his children’s lives - all the things he couldn’t fix. 

_And July.  
_What deadly mistakes he had made with him. 

Perhaps he wishes he’d just die, and have it all fade to black. Simple, as August would rather believe he’s outgrown his old fantasies about death. 

So he smiles softly at July, shuts his eyes for the final time, and wishes for July to pull the trigger again. There’s no use in dragging such things out any longer.

**_  
Bang_ **

_“To another successful mission.”_ July toasted, clinking his glass against August’s own, before he took a sip. His voice was smooth like silk, his lips broken into a soft smile July still possessed back then. 

August nodded in agreement, took a drink from his own glass, and leaned his head into July’s shoulder. He’d slink one hand down to take July’s, to which July returned a gentle squeeze. August grinned, his eyes twinkling with admiration as he looked at him. 

Back then, there had been nothing to stop them from being like that. July had been so wonderfully human when he was younger, and still bright in a way that matched August’s own warmth. Really, the July of old times was nothing like how he’d grown to be in the end.

Successful missions lead to nights like these. Drinking on the roof with their hands intertwined. Soft kisses and laugher, as they let the anxiety drip slowly out of their heads for a while, pretending the same carelessness of drunken moonlight would last forever. 

They’d part for solo work come morning, but in that moment, all that mattered was each other.

“How am I going to cope without you?” August pouted, his voice whiny with the edge of booze.

“You’ll be fine.” July said, rather more composed. 

“Ehhh, but I’ll miss you…”

“I’ll miss you too.” July sighed, and brushed the hair from August’s eyes. “But you’ll be fine. You’re the bright future of the Organisation, aren’t you?”

“ _I’m still human!_ ” August protested petulantly.

July rolled his eyes, and kissed his forehead in a quiet display of affection that wasn’t so uncommon at the time. 

“For good luck.” July said fondly.

—-

There were nights when things had been more dangerous.  
Ones with scrapes at danger, and honest reminders of their own fragility.

“August, it’s a minor wound, can you stop looking at me with those tragic eyes?” July asked from the other side of the room. He must have been watching how August kept glancing up at him over his laptop. 

“Sorry…” August said, his voice rather more weak than he would have liked.

Things were scary sometimes. It was natural they should be, in their line of work.

It was sickening, and distressed his thoughts immensely. He had been unscathed, and really, July's wound wasn’t too deep. However, it didn’t help to think of how things could have been _much worse._

They were lucky to have escaped in such a way.

“ _August_.” July called once more, snapping him from his thoughts again.

“Yes?”

“Come here.” 

August had hesitated, glancing at July for a moment, before he made his way across the room.

“What do you need?” He asked, to which July had shook his head.

“Just sit.” 

“Ok…” August murmured slowly, and sat quietly beside July. He was silent for a while, just watching him with curiously narrowed eyes, before he pressed his hands against August’s face. 

The feeling was gentle, July’s skin rough without gloves. They were warm, and August leaned into the touch of them.

“Stop worrying.” He said plainly, as if August could control such a thing. He managed a shaky laugh in response to it.

“I’ll try. It’s just scary isn’t it?...” August spoke sadly. He moved in closer to July, pressing against him like he was afraid of the separation. Like any moment, July would slip away from his grasp. 

July allowed the natural way he moved to place his head against his shoulder, suppressing choking tears that threatened to fall. In response to the emotion, July squeezed his arms tight around him. 

It was often like this. Quiet tears, touching and comfort that threatened to shatter into oblivion. Still, the feeling of July’s warmth, and the constant beating of his heart was soothing, as August let hot tears sting his cheeks. 

July moved a single hand up, gently combing through soft green locks. August moved to kiss at July’s neck in soft little ways. 

“I love you…” August murmured into him, quietly losing.

“I love you too.” July had always agreed.

—

July was gorgeous in sleep, in a way so different to how he was when he was awake. The first rays of morning, which spilled from thin curtains upon his face, casted him in softer illumination than daylight.

His dark hair was messier, draped down his shoulders in silk of pink and purple. It brushed scars of years, like the knife wound between his shoulder blades, which could have been paralysing, should they have been less lucky. Bullet wounds and slices that littered the paleness of his complexion. The wound from the bullet that scraped his skin should surely not be lonely.

Perhaps some would have argued they were ugly. August would beg to differ. Each scar and mark on their skin could have been lethal, and yet, they were still alive, defying cruel odds. August was lucky enough to treasure him, the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed. 

They were both so wonderfully alive.

He waited a while, on mornings like these. They were kind when compared to the frequent nights in which either of them would be awoken by nightmares. It was calming, to watch how July’s eyes blinked open slowly, and how he squinted as his vision adjusted to sunlight. It was soft, and less sharp than July were on missions.

“Morning.” August smiled, as July turned to glance at him.

“Good morning...” He muttered, his voice deeper, and groggy with sleep.

“Did you sleep well?” August asked, and scooted closer to him, pushing unceremoniously through the duvet. 

“Well enough.” July stated, flat as ever. Perhaps he wasn’t one to reveal all secrets at once, but August had seen enough of his nightmares to know he had slept mostly peacefully. The painkillers were likely to have made him drowsy too, which August took a sense of relief from.

“Are you in pain?”

“Not really.”

“I see…. Can I get you some water? Or some food that preferably doesn’t involve cooking?” August asked with a sheepish tone, though his eyes were always attentive.

“I’m fine, August. You shouldn’t fuss so much.” He groaned in protest at the doting. 

“Eheh. Sorry, it’s just my nature I guess.” August sighed, and fell flat against the bed once more. He lay, flopped against the mattress, and stared off at the ceiling for a while.

“I don't like close calls…” He muttered. “Gives me too much to worry about.”

“Yeah.” July agreed tiredly. “But I’m fine. We’ve survived much worse in keeping this place safe. I think you worry too much.”

“I just don’t know what I’d do without you…” August uttered quietly. He felt a suffocating feeling of sadness flutter tight in his chest, and moved to take July’s hand for his usual reassurance. The responses he gained from July felt almost the opposite.

“I know you worry about me, but I’m more than capable of handling myself you know. You have those kids to look after, shouldn’t you be worrying about them now?” July asked, his eyebrows raised as he glanced at August once more.

“Of course I do... I don’t know what I’d do if I lost _any_ of the three of you...” August reiterated meekly. “I couldn’t cope with that.”

“I see…” July mused, pausing for a moment before his face became more stern. “We agreed that no matter if one of us dies, we would protect this place to the end, correct?” He questioned. 

August thought it was rather odd timing to talk of such things. Surely, the value of one’s life was worth more than their occupation. He understood the importance of the Organisation, but it seemed wrong to discuss such things when August expressed his sensitivities toward death.

“Well, of course that’s important but… Don’t you know how much I’d grieve for you?”

July looked away at that, his mannerisms almost cold, as he spoke so matter of factually. 

“...I would hope you’d move on. Everyone dies, August. In the end there are sacrifices to be made to protect this place.”

“Ok well…. What if it was me? What if I was killed?” August interrupted, his voice a little too desperate, as a sudden emotion overwhelmed him.

The momentary pause from July seemed to last too long. Too calculated. What was there to think about, when answering such questions? Surely, the answer lay within the impulsions of the heart, and not within rational thought.

_“...Of course I’d grieve for you...”_ He had said after too long.

  
  


—-

  
  


Thunder was truly the worst weather, August had decided. It was damp, and gathered only misery. The wind outside blew a gale, the force of it causing the walls to shudder. It was loud, sudden crashes that set August’s nerves alight. 

He was trying to think. Bouncing his leg, tapping his fingers against the table. He was trying to read, analysing pages to understand the most complex intricacies of the human mind. 

Yet, like repetitive thunder, July’s dull words echoed in his head. Perhaps the intensity of the storm only increased his desperation with him. Made him more anxious that there’d be nothing human left of him soon.

July would lecture that “ _love is weakness._ ” And “I _won’t forgive you if something happens because of your feelings for me.”_

 _“There are things that we must protect._ ” He would drill, repeating it over and over until August was tired.

August knew that better than anyone. _Better than even July._

Because the one thing July couldn't desire to protect, was life. _“We live and die for The Organisation.”_ He’d say. Never such words of freedom or life anymore. This place seemed to come first every time.

August had always known July treasured the Organisation. It was obvious he always had done.  
The Organisation had given him his sense of purpose. 

Still, August had once thought he’d changed that. They had dreams of their own, wishes about freedom, and the life they’d share. He’d once hoped that his mindless dedication had been simmered by his affections for him, but perhaps he’d been too wishful.

August never blamed July. It had never been his fault. August just needed to save him.

Maybe it was hypocritical of him to feel such a way. For him to look down upon July’s lack of hesitation in protecting this place, when August knew he wasn’t much better.  
He’d surely die to protect what was important to him. In that way, they were far too similar.

He grimaced at it, shaking his head to try his best to concentrate. If the times should steal his July, August would do his best to fight that. He needed to concentrate. 

He’d spent countless evenings like this, reading books to circle important information. Researching memory loss, and its causes, in hopes to create some temporarily amnestic drug.

They’d lose everything. All their softer memories of first kisses, and night skies at the top of the world. In exchange, they could recreate normalcy.   
Kiss for the first time again, not so impulsively urged by danger and adrenaline. Softer, and sweetly curious. 

They could build a world without the fear of the end. December and April could find themselves real jobs, and have their own chance to build lives for themselves.

August wondered what it would be like, to really live the rest of his days with July. 

He worked hard, every night, with desperation that summer months should see no ruinous end.

  
  


—-

_  
  
_

“I know what you’re up to.” July stated. His voice held a distant coldness, like speaking to some unbeknownst stranger. The very timbre of it made August afraid, as he turned to face him. 

“What do you mean by that?” He asked warily, tilting his head in confusion.

“Don’t play ignorant with me now.”

“I’m honestly not…” August trailed away, taken aback by the cruel look of disgust that formed on July’s face. Never ever, no matter how bad an argument, had July ever made such a face at him. It was frightening, and made August lose any intensity he had to question him.

“The drug.” He expressed. “I had my suspicions that you were lying, and yet I never expected you to do such a thing.”

“ _July?!...”_

“Oh _come on_ August! Don’t be so pathetic _._ How can you toss me aside, after everything we’ve been through together?” 

August just stared, blinking in horror at July’s sudden frenzy. 

“You said you were researching psychological trauma, but it’s memory loss, isn’t it? To abandon this place.” July said, and roughly shoved a pile of paper into August’s hands.

He took them, skimming through each one. Photographs of his work that July had snuck to take. It stung, and a dark sense of foreboding crawled on his skin. A longing to be understood, as he looked into July’s eyes, which narrowed with the look of hatred. 

“...Will you let me explain?...” August asked, his voice tainted with a soft yet desperate plea. 

“Yes, I think that would be interesting.” July scoffed, and raised an eyebrow with dark intrigue. “Go on?”

August breathed. Slowly.   
_He had to make him understand._

“Do you remember when you first came here?” August questioned. His face broke into a tragic smile, as he looked at July almost sympathetically.

“Of course.” July replied, still looking down at August with cruel expressionlessness.

“You were hurt, so I’d stay with you all night, telling you stories about the world...”  
  
July’s facade seemed to crack for just a moment, like a second of regret crossed his mind at the memory. He bit his lip, but regaganged himself, speaking with that feigned bitterness.

“I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”  
  
August went on.

“We were stupid back then, but we were always together, weren’t we? I’d used to joke at running away, and even then, you’d laugh at me. Say you couldn’t understand what I was talking about…” August paused for a moment. July wasn’t looking at him anymore.

“...I don’t know if I was ever joking. I’ve watched you for years - I noticed how blindly dedicated you were, always willing to be used as some pawn for this place. There’s a life outside of this _cage_ , July, and you’ve never even seen it... Somewhere you can be free, and…”

“ _Why must you hold on to such childish delusions!?”_ July suddenly barked. His teeth ground together, and his yellow eyes were wide. Whether it be lighting, or a desperate trick of August’s imagination, they seemed pricked by the beginnings of angry tears.

“ _You’re ungrateful!_ You _know_ what this place has given us, and yet, you think you can just abandon everything?  
You’re just being selfish, August.” He gasped, on shallow breaths. August flinched at it, feeling the scorching rage in his words.

  
“ _This_ has always been my dream. You can’t just force people to follow you, because of your ridiculous messiah complex!”

It hurt, mostly because he knew July wasn’t wrong at all.

He’d always been selfish. 

Of course, he’s just been narcissistic in trying to fix every broken thing he saw. Like those children, who would have died without August, he knew it came off so holier-than-thou. 

He’d opted for memory loss, because July would never agree to his plans. He’d known that he was betraying the love of his life, because he knew deep down, it was the only way to save July. 

_July_ \- just another thing August took upon himself to save, whether he wished to be or not. _Like always, August, and his great head of arrogance._

Still, there was suffering in July’s outburst, that felt so brainwashed and confused. Almost as if it were less painful to look away from anything but The Organisation. To shelter his head from dreams, and remain a tragic caged songbird forever.

“...What do you think would happen if I showed these to someone?” July asked slowly, his voice quieter now, his breathing shaky. 

August swallowed hard, and just looked up at him with a sorrowful smile. 

“Sorry…”

“Give up, August. Toss away your research. _Stay here_ , and nothing bad has to happen.”

“I won’t”

“So be it.” July shook his head in irritation. August noticed the gentle tear that betrayed him, rolling down July’s cheek of his shattered facade.

“Do as you wish. Don’t assume things will go so smoothly….” July threatened quietly, and turned to leave the room.

August watched him leave. His hair that fluttered behind him like broken wings. The gentle glimmer of light caught in emerald earrings. Such fleeting gorgeousness, that left August feeling suffocated again.

August would either save him - or or he’d die trying.

_“I’d follow you into the jaws of hell.”_ He’d once said.

—

_“...Well if something happens, I just need to use this, right?”_

_“That’s really the last resort. I want you to cling to your life till the very last moment.”_

_“But this is safer than getting caught and being forced to drink a truth serum.”_

_“Don’t say that! I might lose my irreplaceable family to the drug that I invented - please understand how painful that is!”_

_“August…”_

_“...Sorry. I’ll cool off for a bit…”_

August never liked such talk before missions. It drove his focus into dangerous territory. Even when he’d left the room, he heard them bickering with each other, such morbid things that August hated for them to worry about.

The tension between them never really dissipated. With the younger two avoiding conversations with each other, and August too distressed by his problems with July, he hadn’t had the energy to have them properly apologise. For that, he knew they’d know there was something more on his mind, he just hoped December understood that it wasn’t his fault.

It was late, and August had waited patiently for them to sleep, checking on April several times to ensure he actually would. He needed them to rest - today had been difficult enough as it were, and actual mission days were only rougher.

There were more preparations he had to make. In light of recent events, August had felt an urgency to act with it quickly. 

He double checked their bags, ensuring weaponry and tools were ready to go. They’d packed light, only a few essentials as the mission was ensured to be relatively easy, but it was always better to be safe than sorry.

The only thing August had left to do was the poison. Three blue vials, sat quiet and unimposing on his desk, several bottles of remedies and elixirs on the shelves above them. August pulled down two bottles. 

One was poison of course - the regular stuff for himself, which he promptly placed around his neck for safekeeping.

Regularly, August had to do the same for the other two; that haunting thought that they should die by his own hand took over him each time. 

Not today.  
Not any longer.  
August would end this soon.

Into the other two, he poured the new liquid. A memory loss drug that would be the key to their escape, and would ensure their own safety. August carefully corked them, and placed them beside their bags. 

Once he was assured, he’d thought to join the pair in sleep, but the argument from earlier still left a deep sense of anxiety in him that made him hesitant. If he slept in this state, he’d either stay awake all night, or would be taunted by nightmares, and August preferred to avoid such bothers.

Instead, he thought to find something to relax and distract himself with, figuring that less undisturbed sleep was better than long hours of nightmares or restlessness.

August set himself at preparing for Christmas. Perhaps it was a little early to have presents already purchased, but there was an odd sense of gloom that fell on his shoulders to prepare things like this early, in case he wouldn’t get the chance to. This year in particular, he was glad he had.

August sighed, pushing such negative thoughts from his head, as he grabbed rolls of wrapping paper and sellotape, along with the three gifts he had prepared. 

Some interesting mix of spices for April that he thought he hadn’t heard of before.

Marshmallow biscuits for December, as well as a few other sweets he’d heard were popular from the store children. He’d wondered if December would like to try them.

He wrote them both cards, delicate messages in swirling lettering that made them cringe when they read them each year. August had always found it amusing, though he meant every word, no matter how embarrassing it was for them.

Finally, August pulled out a pair of earrings.  
Stars that glinted softly, reminding him of the way July’s eyes used to. August held them in his hand for a while, pondering over the emotions that welled in his chest. 

He had bought the earrings to match the pair of crescent moons July picked out in the early months of their relationship.  
On their first makeshift excuse of a date, and August had rarely seen him without them since. He found an odd security in the fact he still wore them through everything. He hoped it was proof there was still a chance for him to be saved, like he was grasping at the same flimsy straws August still was.   
  


He wondered if he should even expect such sentimental things from July anymore.

“You don’t understand, but I’ll save you from this place if it’s the last thing I do.” He muttered melancholic, as he signed his card in round letters.

“ _July_.”

He stared at the three presents on the desk in front of him. Every day seemed more unsure, so tiring and fragile. He’d had no idea what July was up to, having not contacted him since their fight those weeks ago.

He sighed, biting his lip, as he tucked the presents away in a secret compartment of his drawer.

There was nothing left he could do except pray tomorrow’s mission would go smoothly.


End file.
